


Give Me Your Warmth

by blotsandcreases



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Ficlet, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 09:35:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6977977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blotsandcreases/pseuds/blotsandcreases
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beth drops by Alison's house.</p><p>prompt: "things you said at the kitchen table"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Me Your Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> Flashfic for the tumblr prompt: "things you said at the kitchen table." Title from "Squeeze," a track from Fifth Harmony's sophomore album.

Alison opens the front door to a gust of wind and Beth shivering in her navy blue coat. The sky is a solid wall of grey and the few neighbours outside are too busy dashing to their houses as thunder rumbles and spills out a proper downpour. With a last brisk survey of the street, Alison takes Beth by the damp arm of her coat and shuts the door.

“Is everything all right?” Alison asks as she watches Beth take off her coat. Beth’s hair is frizzed and there are beads of rain on her cheeks, just beyond the shadows under her eyes. This close to her in the narrow hall, Alison thinks she catches the whiff of whiskey and sherry with Beth’s rose perfume.

“Sorry for the ten-minute heads-up,” Beth says with a crooked smile.

“No, it’s fine.” Donnie won’t be back until eight for dinner, and the kids have gone to a sleepover with the Paddingtons. “I just – I thought you had reservations with Paul later. You still haven’t got a lipstick for your dress. I thought you’d be in a department store by now, with the lipstick.”

“Change of plans.” Beth pats her frizzed hair. “I come bearing biscuits.”

Beth presses a jade and brown box into Alison’s hands. It’s from Kinky Cakes, the tiny shop tucked between a kebab shop with the best ketchup around and the gourmet pizza place, the shop they once passed by in Alison’s car when they canvassed for Alison’s gun. The light was red and Alison was tapping her steering wheel to Shakira whilst Beth mused about belly dancing lessons when Beth suddenly laughed. It was the first time Alison heard Beth laugh like that since meeting her, bright and startled and bone-deep amused, and made Alison smile throughout their gun shopping.

Alison giggles now. “I’ll put the kettle on.”

The thick gurgles of boiling water and the rush of rain bring a mild sort of comfort to Alison. She feels Beth watching her from the table as she sets mugs, tea bags, milk, and sugar on a tray. It’s the first time she has Beth in her kitchen, and it jolts her from the mild comfort into the cold fact of what has become of her life.

“How’s your day? Sorted out Gemma’s test mark?” Beth asks as Alison pours hot water into their mugs.

“Oh, yes. I had,” Alison sets down the tray on the table and sits beside Beth, “strong words with her teacher about messing up marking tests. All a misunderstanding. Then I went to the grocery with Aynsley and the others. Lamb and lettuce and loo rolls. And a little box of wine.”

Beth rests her chin on her hand. “What is it? Is it the pink lipstick vodka or something?”

  
“Red. Something Spanish.” Alison nibbles on a biscuit, rich and buttery and with a coffee bean in the middle. “I’ll buy that vodka some other time.”

“When you’re drunk?” Beth says with a smirk.

“God no. I get sick when drunk and confronted by alcohol. I don’t know.” Alison curls her hand around her warm mug. She doesn’t like thinking about that terrible tug of sadness, or other bleak moments of her life. “Some other time. I’m sure I’ll know.”

They are silent as Beth plays with the tag of her tea bag and Alison crunches on the coffee bean. They get silent like this when there are just the two of them and Alison never feels like it’s a silence that should be fussily filled, but Beth had asked her how her day went. It feels nice. Alison slants a glance over at Beth and feels something in her chest clench. It’s Alison’s face, but that’s all. Not the tilt of Beth’s lips, or the furrow of her brow, or the languid strength in her shoulders, or the line of her back slightly slumped over the kitchen table. This isn’t Alison, and Alison doesn’t know that much about Beth.

“So how was your day?”

Beth looks at her, beaming, before she purses her lips in thought. “Erm. Let’s see. I hadn’t had coffee before leaving the house. But, turns out, we ran out of coffee beans in the station. I suspect Angie. She must’ve just ripped open a bag and started munching the beans.”

Alison laughs. “What?”

“DeAngelis doesn’t have a bloodstream. A caffeine stream. She’s a true cop.”

“You’re adorable,” Alison says, and she meant it to be brisk but it came out different. She nudges the biscuit box toward Beth.

Beth briefly presses her cheek against her mug and she further slouches over the table, propped up on her elbow and peering up at Alison with a smile. She looks softer, somehow, and warm. Alison has to blink.

Instead Alison says, “You look like you could use a nap.”

Beth’s smile dims. “That bad?”

A lot of things aren’t that great right now, really. Horrifying and surreal and more often than not Alison finds herself staring hard at the mirror or cuddling more with Gemma and Oscar just to reassure herself, clutching at their little calls for Mommy. But Beth – Alison’s heart breaks a bit seeing Beth’s tired face, in the bright light of her kitchen and only just gone pink from the warmth of Beth’s mug. Beth has an offhand comment from two weeks ago that she can’t really sleep, or even nap, in her own flat. From Beth’s brusque stories about the state of things with Paul, Alison is quite certain no one prepares tea for Beth after a long day putting herself out there on official and unofficial detective work.

Alison reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind Beth’s ear. Beth closes her eyes and says, “I don’t think Paul loves me.”

Alison doesn’t remove her hand, gentle upon Beth’s hair, and when Beth didn’t move away Alison lets her palm rest more firmly.

“Not anymore,” Beth continues. “If he ever did. I don’t think I do now, either.”

Alison remains silent. It’s not often that Beth talks about herself. She’s always an ear for Alison’s questions on gun safety and Cosima’s troubles in university and this whole thing where someone experimented on them and now intent on wiping them out.

“How do you tell if you love someone, anyway?” Beth says.

Alison doesn’t know how to put a name on it as well. But she thinks of the kettle already full of hot water in the morning, of a thoughtful box of treats after a long week, of laughter, of a simple inquiry on how your day went. Little gestures of sweetness which make every day a little more bearable.

“I love you,” Alison tells Beth.

Beth’s eyes open a little from where she has her head pillowed on her arm. “How do you know that?” she mumbles.

Alison kisses Beth high on her cheek where the warmth from the mug glows a dull pink. “Go nap. I’ll be here,” is what she says instead. Beth’s eyes have already drifted close, and Alison gently runs her thumb on Beth’s cheek. She’s not wiping her kiss away.

**Author's Note:**

> When not scrambling for coursework deadlines or daydreaming about fics I'm short on time to write, I'm over at blotsandcreases.tumblr.com sighing happily at all the great things. :)


End file.
